


Consequences of Pink Pumpkin Juice

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: On Valentine's Day, havoc grips the halls of Hogwarts as a would be Cupid adds a love potion to the morning pumpkin juice. Pansy finds herself at the mercy of Ginny for the duration of the spell, but is all as it seems?Originally from Everyone/Ginny site Essence of Valor. Written by Ginnysdarkside.Compeleted.Only for archiving. I don't owed this plot
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Consequences of Pink Pumpkin Juice

It all started with the blasted pumpkin juice. Pansy had never liked the stuff in the first place, and certainly after the incident in question, she swore off it for life, but that morning she had been content with her morning coffee while those around her drank their fill of the sweet cloying beverage. It had seemed odd, she would think in retrospect, that it had been pink, and there also had seemed to be many more carafes of it than usual on the tables, but at the time, she had been too distracted by the chaos that had erupted around her in the Great Hall to give the matter much thought.

It was early in the morning on Valentine’s Day in Pansy’s seventh year. She’d been sitting across from her boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, her back to the rest of the Great Hall, when she started to hear the usual low buzz of conversation grow more … rhapsodic. That was really the only word for it. And was that the sound of someone singing?

She had started to turn around, still chewing a mouthful of toast, when Draco sat down his goblet with bang and looked into the empty vessel with a bemused expression. “Isn’t it wonderful?” he gushed. “This may just be the best juice ever. It’s even pink!”

Pansy choked on her toast and managed to swallow. “Draco, dear, are you all right?”

“Oh fine, just fine, Pansy!” he said. He looked up, his eyes sliding past her and focusing on something across the hall. Suddenly a dreamy look crept over his face. He looked back at her with sudden intensity. “Pansy, I’m in love.”

“So you’ve said before dear, it’s nothing new. Why just yesterday you told me –”

Draco beamed and interrupted her. “Oh not with you dear, with him.” He pointed over her shoulder and continued to chatter, apparently oblivious to the horrified look on her face.

“What?” Pansy whirled around and was confronted by a scene of chaos. Everywhere she looked, strange and unusual combinations of students were snogging, on the tables, under the tables, atop the benches. Across the room, she saw Hermione Granger and Dean Thomas getting intimate under the horrified eyes of Nearly Headless Nick while Ron Weasley was on his knees in front of the Head Table, professing his love for a petrified looking Professor Snape, who seemed thoroughly disgusted and kept pushing him away, deducting house points so fast the red gems in the Gryffindor hourglass were in the negative. Next to him, Professor Dumbledore looked up from what appeared to be a meditative contemplation of his prune juice and, with a start, seemed to realize something was amiss. He looked over the crowd with amusement then a twinkle appeared in his eyes.

“Students! Students!” he yelled, his powerful voice freezing everyone momentarily. “There seems to be some kind of love spell in action here.”

Professor Snape pushed Ron Weasley off his lap and snatched up a carafe of pumpkin juice. His lips curled as he held it to his nose. “Someone’s been playing Cupid,” he sneered in his low, cynical voice. “The pumpkin juice has been tampered with.”

A tumultuous uproar exploded through the hall as those who hadn’t sampled the juice began to once again try to fend off the advances of those who had. Pansy looked around at her housemates, most of them (the upper forms at least), were thankfully coffee drinkers and other than Draco and Millicent Bulstrode (who was cracking her knuckles and eying a nervous looking Blaise Zabini) no one else seemed any different. She also noted to her surprise, that no one third year and below seemed to be affected. Just then, Draco leaned forward and whispered confidentially over the hubbub. “Isn’t he dreamy?”

Pansy felt a bit faint. “Who?” she asked finally.

Draco sighed. “Potter. He’s got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“But Draco, it’s just a spell. You do realize you’re not really gay, don’t you?”

A momentary flash of lucidity crossed his features. “Well, actually, Pans, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Pansy had had enough; she stood up and started to push her way through the chaotic throngs as Dumbledore began to yell. “All students proceed to their houses. Do not under any circumstances drink any more juice, and if you have do not look anybody in the eye. Is that clear?”

In the background she heard Professor Snape bellow. “I will analyze the potion and work on an acceptable antidote. Until then – Damn it Weasley! Take your hands off me or I’ll turn you into a toad!”

“I can’t believe this!” Pansy mumbled under her breath as she stepped over a pair of passionately snogging fourth years. “Bloody freaking Draco, bloody cupids, bloody … Weasley!”

With a lurch she hit the floor just outside the Great Hall doorway, which was thankfully free of licentious couples. She cursed at the sight of bloody scrapes on her hands and knees and looked next to her where the small muscular body that had hurtled into her was crumpled.

Ginny Weasley averted her eyes and closed them tightly. “Sorry, Parkinson, it’s just hard to navigate if your eyes are closed, I drank the juice, and I’m trying not to look at anyone.”

Pansy sighed. “Whatever, Weasley, just get the hell out of my way. I’m not in the mood right now.”

A tiny smirk crossed Ginny’s lips. “Oh… is poor ickle Pansy all upset about the ickle love potion? What, did Draco forsake you for someone else? Let me guess, was it Goyle?”

“For your information, Weasley, it was your precious Potter.” She smiled maliciously, an expression that was wiped instantly off her face as Ginny Weasley opened her eyes and looked at her in horror. “No, Weasley! Don’t!”

But it was too late; Ginny started to close her eyes, but in that one instant, their gazes had locked, and Pansy watched with trepidation as she immediately opened them again and an adoring look crossed her face. Pansy shook her head and scrambled to her feet, anxious to put as much distance between herself and the redhead as possible.

“Pansy!” Ginny said. “Darling, don’t run.”

Pansy gave her a panic stricken look and bolted away as fast as humanly possible. She didn’t hear Ginny Weasley laughing low under her breath behind her.

The rest of the day was a nightmare. The halls echoed with the sounds of crying students forcibly separated by Professors, and further chaos erupted when it was discovered that Hagrid and Madame Pomfrey had both partaken of the juice and broken a table in the staff room in their zeal. Mob rule prevailed for a single day as those people who hadn’t partaken of the infected drink strove to keep far away from their adoring love slaves by any means necessary. By evening, however, Professor Snape (having finally resorted to petrifying Ron Weasley) and Dumbledore had determined the type of elixir used. They announced it at dinner, which was held in three sessions to try to separate the overeager, love struck students from their paramours, and also shared the news that their was no antidote, but that the potion would wear off in five to seven days, depending on the amount ingested. Until then, they would strive to keep people separated, but implored those not affected to be patient with the other students.

Pansy sat miserably at the Slytherin table after hearing the news, trying to ignore the bright, flirtatious glances Ginny Weasley kept sending her way and making a mess of her mashed potatoes while listening to Draco babble on about Potter.

“And then,” Draco said, his voice shaking with excitement, “then he said that he wouldn’t date me if I was the last man on Earth.” He grabbed her hand eagerly. “You know what that means don’t you? That means I still have a chance!”

Pansy shook off his hand irritably and with a cry of dismay snatched off the charm bracelet he had given her and threw it in his face. “Screw you, Draco, and screw your bloody freaking new, alternative lifestyle. I don’t want to hear another word about Potter. If I do, I warn you, I’ll give every single one of your hair potions to Professor Snape.”

“You wouldn’t!” Draco said, looking horrified. “But, I need them to look my best for Harry.” He wrung his hands together and looked at her pleadingly.

“That’s it!” Pansy jumped up. “It’s over between us. You couldn’t have had coffee this morning like everybody else, could you?”

“But Pansy, it was pink!”

Pansy screamed in frustration and stalked out of the hall. She’d barely gotten a few yards from the hall when she heard footsteps echoing behind her. “Leave me alone, Weasley.”

She felt the other girl’s hand come down on her shoulder. “It’s all right, Pansy. I don’t want you to hate me. I haven’t seen you all day and it’s killing me. Please, just talk to me.”

“And why should I do that?”

“I brought you chocolates. Dark chocolate, the kind with the little jelly in the center, and I wrote you a poem. Want to hear it?”

Pansy sighed and rolled her eyes. She knew from observing the other students all day that if she ignored Weasley, the girl would just get worse. Better to play along and maybe at least escape relatively unscathed. “What kind of jelly?” she asked gruffly. She turned around and saw Ginny holding out a box, an adoring look in her eyes.

“Raspberry, my mum makes them by hand.”

“Fine then, we’ll talk; let’s just go where no one can see us together.”

Ginny nodded eagerly and followed Pansy up to the library. The place was deserted except for Potter who was hiding behind a large stack of books, a terrified expression on his face. She sent him a sympathetic look. Merlin, she thought to herself, who thought I’d ever have something in common with the bloody Boy-Who-Lived.

They moved to a table in the back and sat down. Pansy opened the chocolates and tried one as Ginny babbled on. They were quite good actually. The chocolate melted on her tongue in a combination of bitter and sweet and soothed her ire somewhat. She grudgingly answered all of Weasley’s questions and, after a while, even asked some of her own. Despite the occasional declaration of love, the girl could actually hold a civilized conversation. Pansy was almost beginning to enjoy herself when Ginny blushed and looked at the clock.

“I should go, Pansy. Thank you for talking with me. Maybe I could see you tomorrow?”

The world must be coming to an end, because Pansy found herself agreeing. If nothing else, at least it meant she wouldn’t have to listen to Draco. Currently her ex-boyfriend was sitting in a chair next to a disgruntled and irate Harry Potter, ignoring the insulting comments of the other boy and leafing cheerfully though a travel magazine, blathering on about honeymoon destinations.

As Ginny stood up to leave, she handed Pansy a wrinkled piece of parchment. “Here,” she said. “I wrote this for you, my love.”

Pansy snatched the parchment away, instantly regretting her decision to meet with the other girl tomorrow, but the redhead merely winked flirtatiously and skipped off. It was getting late, and Pansy made her way back to her room, changed into her nightclothes (trying to tune out Millicent’s lovelorn diatribe about Blaise), and pulled the bed curtains around her. She illuminated her wand and slowly unfolded the piece of parchment.

For Pansy

What lies beneath those eyes of blue?  
An enigma deep and lonely like the sea.  
Within their depths I see a girl,  
Who hates the way they think she ought to be.  
This then I say is my request,  
Hold tight to that truth that lies in you.  
And each day that passes into night,  
Rely less upon lies and on deceit.  
So when that day comes when at last you know,  
The secret that lies behind the mask  
You can reach inside and free it to the winds  
And know what it is to be at last.

Pansy crumpled the parchment in her hand and cried. It was late into the night before she fell asleep, the wrinkled scrap still balled up in her hand.

The next day the Professors tried to have classes go on as usual. Unfortunately, to their dismay, they found that between the crying, the love letter writing, and the snogging, that nothing could possibly be accomplished while the student body was in its current state. Dumbledore declared a school holiday until the “Pink Pumpkin Juice Crisis” had been resolved, and many students were sent home for the duration, the teachers merely assigning reams of homework for them to complete on their own. Pansy stayed, along with most of those unaffected, as well as the entire Weasley clan. Draco was dragged home by his irate father who was muttering things like “he knew the boy should have gone to Durmstrang” and “reeducation” the entire time.

Pansy walked around in a daze, trying to avoid Ginny Weasley as much as possible. The poem had hit home. It troubled her that anyone could possibly know the way she felt inside. Her family had expectations for her. Hard and fast rules involving marriage to a pureblood, producing a family, service to the values they had instilled in her. Her happiness had never figured into the equation.

When Ginny finally caught up with her later in the day, Pansy was down by the lake, dressed in her warmest cloak and leather gloves, sitting on a rock, staring gloomily at the ice. Pansy sighed to herself at the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow and turned around to see Weasley coming towards her. The other girl’s flame red hair stood out in sharp contrast to the snow-covered scenery, and she was wearing a red cloak and mittens that made Pansy feel warmer just looking at her.

“There you are!” Weasley said. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to be found?” Pansy growled in response, turning back to her contemplation of the lake.

Ginny dropped down next to her on the large flat rock. “Why would it?”

Pansy sighed with exasperation. “Can’t you get it through your thick head, Weasley? I don’t like you. You don’t like me. You certainly don’t love me. This is only a spell, one that won’t be over a moment too soon.”

A funny little choking sound escaped Ginny that almost sounded like a laugh, but when Pansy turned around to look at her, she realized the younger girl looked like she was about ready to cry. Her lower lip trembled, and she was staring at Pansy with wide brown eyes. “You don’t … You don’t like me?” Her voice shook slightly, and then to Pansy’s complete horror, a single tear trickled down her cheek. Just then the girl buried her face in her hands, and her shoulders began to shake as she made the same choking sound in her throat.

“Weasley, try to be reasonable. You know you don’t like me either.” She stretched out her hand and, hating herself the entire time, slowly began to rub it soothingly up and down the other girl’s back.

The girl only sobbed harder. “I know I don’t, but I still love you.” She tore away from Pansy and threw herself down on the ground, beating the rock with her mittened hands. “Why did this happen to me? I didn’t ask for this. You hate me, you hate me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Pansy grabbed the other girl’s hands. “You’re going to hurt yourself, Weasley, stop it! I don’t hate you. I don’t even know you.” I can’t believe I’m saying this, she thought to herself. “This will all be over soon, I promise, until then, just keep it together, can you do that?”

At her words, Ginny seemed to calm down. She straightened her shoulders and looked at Pansy. “I think so. I’ll need something to distract me though.”

Pansy pushed her away and scrambled to her feet. “Oh, no, Weasley. There’s no way I’m doing that.”

A funny little smile crossed Weasley’s lips. “I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about ice skating.” She indicated the lake with a wave of her hand. “The ice is perfect today.”

“I don’t skate, Weasley. I have weak ankles,” Pansy snapped. “Can’t you go bother your brother or something?”

“He’s helping Professor Snape.” Ginny’s nose crinkled with amusement. “I never thought I’d hear him wax poetic about disemboweling pickled toads, but apparently miracles do happen.” She laughed. Her laughter was contagious, a free and ringing sound, and to her surprise, Pansy found herself giggling along with her self consciously.

“Now,” said the redhead, pulling out her wand and transfiguring their boots into skates. “Let’s skate. I won’t let you fall, Parkinson. I promise.”

Pansy looked over at her. Her brown eyes sparkled with amusement, and for a moment, it seemed like this was the real Ginny Weasley talking. She wondered if the potion was fading early. The notion was quickly disabused, however, by the girl’s next words.

“Please, darling. Say you will.” Ginny held out her red mittened hand with an adoring smile.

“Fine then, but if I fall it’s on your head.” She stretched out her arm and took Weasley’s hand gingerly with her gloved fingers. Slowly they stepped onto the ice. Instantly, Pansy’s ankles began to wobble, and she grabbed Ginny’s arm for support.

“Easy now, I won’t let you fall. Just move your feet slowly like this,” said Ginny, demonstrating the proper footwork with a smooth motion.

“I can’t do that, Ginny; I’m not graceful like that.”

“I’ve seen you dance, Pansy. If you can dance you can do this, trust me.” They skated a few steps, Pansy’s ankles shaking like a colt’s. As they slowly made their way across the ice, Ginny spoke, her breath sending a cloud of mist out into the air. “You called me by my first name just now.”

Pansy looked up and felt her feet start to slide out from under her. “No I didn’t.”

Ginny hauled her upright, and the two of them were face to face. “Yes, you did.” Her lips stretched out in a giant smile. Pansy found herself staring at the other girl, really looking at her for the first time. In the rays of the setting sun, her hair looked like a bonfire, gold, red, pink, orange, a conflagration of curls that tumbled around her face.

She pulled her arm away. “We should be getting back.”

“No, one more turn, I want to see you skate,” Ginny insisted. Her eyes, however, looked puzzled. She pulled Pansy in a wide circle, and suddenly it was as if something clicked in Pansy’s mind. She slid one foot forward, then the other, and suddenly she was gliding along the ice.

“I did it!” She laughed and turned to Ginny in her excitement, and then her feet went out from under her. She grabbed the other girl’s arm for support, and the two of them spun around wildly for a second. They had started to balance out when all of a sudden Ginny’s feet slipped, and she fell, pulling Pansy down on top of her.

One minute they were standing on the ice, the next, here she was, lying on top of Ginny Weasley. She felt the other girl shaking beneath her and propped herself up on her hands, staring down at her anxiously.

“Weasley, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Ginny choked out. Pansy looked at her closely and realized to her shock that the other girl was laughing. Ginny shook harder and finally, unable to control it any longer, began to laugh hysterically. “You … should … have seen the … look on your … face. It was … priceless.” She dissolved again into giggles, leaving Pansy staring down at her in disgust.

“That’s not funny Weasley.” Pansy tried to pull herself up, but slid on the ice again. Her hands came down on either side of Weasley’s shoulders, and she barely managed not to fall on the other girl. She pulled back and froze, painfully aware that they were mere inches apart. Ginny’s cheeks were flame red from the cold and from laughing, and her brown eyes sparkled with something alien to Pansy. Something that Pansy associated in her mind with dinners around a kitchen table, and snow ball fights, and fun. Something associated with all the things in life her family said were worthless and lower class, the things that all her father’s money could never buy and that she’d never had, never really thought she even wanted, until now.

She rolled over and sat on the ice, quickly transfiguring the skates back into her boots. “I … I have to go, Weasley.” She stood up and started to make her way carefully back to shore.

“Pansy, wait!”

Pansy didn’t look back, and when she hit the shore, she started to run, struggling through the heavy snow, desperate to get away. She didn’t know that Ginny sat there on the ice a long time, watching her receding figure until it disappeared into the castle, a confused, troubled expression etched on her face.

That night, Pansy snuggled in the warm, down filled coverlet on her bed, leafing through a family album. Every page was the same; tasteful, well dressed figures, perfectly posed, nodding graciously or smiling condescendingly at the camera. There was no laughter, no joy, only page after page of cold, disparaging perfection.

She turned the pages frantically. Looking for something she could not name. There was her father, giving her a present, a distant cold expression on his face, as if it was merely duty not anything he wanted to be doing, the next page showed her mother holding her as a baby, looking like she held a book, a handbag, anything but a child. There was no love here, only pride, only coldness. One by one, she ripped the pictures out and threw them in the fire. When the book was empty she stared at the cover then slowly slid a wrinkled piece of parchment in between the pages.

The next day, Pansy ate breakfast quickly at the Slytherin table then made her way to an empty study room on the third floor. She dove into some of her assigned homework, hoping for some peace from the turmoil of her thoughts. Her hopes were disrupted, however, when at lunchtime, Ginny Weasley came in, bearing a tray of sandwiches and hot chocolate.

“I saw you weren’t at lunch.”

“That’s because I wanted to be alone.” Pansy didn’t look up from her Ancient Runes translation. She stiffened as Ginny set the tray down on the table and sat in the empty seat beside her.

“Why did you leave yesterday?” Ginny asked. Pansy turned to look at her. The redhead’s eyes were strangely haunted, quite unlike the lovesick look she’d had for the past few days.

“It’s none of your concern, Weasley. Thank you for the sandwiches,” she said dismissively. She turned back to her homework, dipping her quill into her dark green ink and painstakingly drawing runes onto the parchment.

To her annoyance, the other girl didn’t take the hint, only sliding closer and peering over her shoulder at what she was writing. Damn that bloody love potion. If she ever caught that “cupid” they would pay within an inch of their lives.

Ginny watched her write thoughtfully for a moment. “Is that an Aramaic translation?”

“Yes,” Pansy said shortly. “It’s an early example of their poetry. We’re supposed to translate it and then write an analysis in the runic language.”

“We’re just starting those,” Ginny said thoughtfully. “I think their grasp of the sense of self is fascinating.”

Pansy sneered. “I didn’t know you could think, Weasley. I thought you spent all your time playing quidditch and flirting with boys.”

She felt Ginny stiffen beside her, but the red head merely reached for a sandwich. “You don’t know much about me then.”

“Oh, I think I do.” Pansy shut the translation angrily and set her parchment aside to let the ink dry. She took a sandwich and then turned around in her chair to look at the other girl.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell me then, since you know so much about me.”

Pansy sneered. “I think it’s obvious. You’re loud and boisterous. You’re the last in a long line of brothers, so you’re doted on at home. Your family is idealistic and self righteous and wallows in the fact that although they may be poor at least they have their pride.”

“Oh yes, let’s talk about, pride, Parkinson, since you obviously are stiff with it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Weasley. I’m not what you think I am. You don’t even know me, and if it wasn’t for this stupid, bloody spell, you wouldn’t even be speaking to me, so don’t you dare go accusing me of something you’re just as guilty of as I.”

The sound of silence echoed in the room. The two of them stared at each other, two pairs of eyes narrowed. Ginny’s cheeks were flushed red with anger, while Pansy’s were pale with rage.

“Then why don’t you tell me,” Ginny finally said. “Tell me who you really are, and maybe I’ll believe there’s some truth in what you say.”

Pansy opened and closed her lips. She had expected Weasley to walk away or to, instead, violently declare her love again; instead the other girl was looking at her judgingly, as if deciding whether she was worth listening to. Pansy’s mind whirled. No one had ever asked her that before. No one had cared to find out who she really was, only dictated to her who she was supposed to be

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She felt so terribly confused. “I don’t know who I am, anymore.”

“Parkinson.” Ginny’s voice had grown soft, and before Pansy could help herself, she felt tears start to roll down her cheeks. The room was quiet, and she couldn’t bear to open her eyes and see if the other girl was still there. She felt so alone, everything she’d ever known was a lie. Her father, the pillar of their family, was a Death Eater, her mother a cold, heartless woman who drank too much. She was only valuable to them as a tool, a bride to be bartered to the Malfoys or the Flints as a lever to increase her family’s social stature. She had always known these facts, but only now was she starting to realize she wanted something different. She knew that if she stayed this way that she would end up like her mother. The thought terrified her.

A raspy noise startled her, and she realized it was the sound of her own sobbing. Just then she felt a pair of arms go around her, and Ginny’s hand pulled her head down against the soft wool of her jumper. She cried into the wool, cried for everything she wanted, everything she knew was now lost to her forever, while Ginny stroked her hair and made soothing sounds.

Finally she pulled back and looked up at Ginny, wiping her cheeks furiously with her fingers. “You must think I’m mad.”

The other girl shook her head, her eyes thoughtful. “No, no I don’t.” She reached up and pushed back a stray piece of Pansy’s hair. “If you need to talk …”

And so it began. The two of them stayed up in the study room late into the night. Talking, sharing stories, devouring the plate of sandwiches until there was nothing left. They missed dinner, and Ginny, with a smirk, had taken Pansy down to the kitchens, a place where she had never been before, and asked the house elves to make them elaborate dishes, which the two of them ate while trying to hide their amusement at the sight of the bowing, scraping elves.

The castle was mostly empty, and no one came to tell them to go to bed, so it was nearly midnight by the time Pansy got back to her rooms. She slept well. She’d never talked like that to anyone before, never had anyone really listen to what she’d said. Weasley had surprised her too. The other girl had told her things she’d never dreamed even went on behind those wide brown eyes, and there were times, when they’d speak of something like the Malfoys, when Ginny would get strangely quiet, and Pansy would wonder if there was something in her that was haunted too.

The next day, and the next, they spent together. Pansy was subjected to the mocking stares and snide comments of her housemates, but she ignored them for once, instead, finishing her meals quickly, then she and Ginny would go out by the lake, or wander around the castle for hours, or sit and do their homework together in the library. It was nice to have a friend. Pansy suppressed the tiny little thought that kept gnawing at her brain, telling her that soon the spell would be over and Ginny wouldn’t speak to her again. Sure enough, as the week went on, Ginny’s earlier ardor seemed to cool, instead she would merely listen intently, or smile, or sometimes touch Pansy’s arm or hand while they were talking, but she left it at that. It was strange, Pansy thought, Ginny’s brother Ron, for example, still seemed as enamored of Professor Snape as he was on the first day (much to the Potions Master’s chagrin), but she supposed the potion dissipated differently depending on the person.

By the fifth day, the potion was wearing off on some people, and students were beginning to arrive back at the school one by one, a little ashamed and embarrassed, but no worse for the experience. That night, in the third floor study room, Pansy looked up at Ginny who was immersed in her History of Magic book. The other girl was twirling a strand of hair thoughtfully around her fingers as she read. Her hair glinted in the candlelight, her eyelashes casting soft shadows on her cheeks. That was the minute Pansy knew. It was like a knife to her heart, a pain so excruciating that a tiny gasp escaped her, causing Ginny to look up in concern.

“You ok, Pansy?”

Pansy merely nodded and smiled faintly, and Ginny went back to her reading. Inside she wanted to cry. This wasn’t fair, she hadn’t expected this. For she knew now that she had fallen in love with Ginny, fallen in love with another girl, who, once the potion fully had worn off, would never love her back. Ginny would go back to dating boys, and she, Pansy, would be faced with the knowledge that she didn’t like boys, had never really liked boys, and that she would be forever cast off from her family because of it. Worst of all, was the thought that she would not only have her heart broken, but she would lose the first friend she’d ever really had.

She cleared her throat. “Ginny.” The other girl looked up at her, and the look on her face made Pansy want to cry. She was looking at her in a loving way, a way that within days, or even hours, would be replaced by disgust. “What happens when …” Her voice broke, and she took a breath and tried again. “What happens when the Potion wears off?”

A funny look crossed Ginny’s face, and she smiled. “Pansy, I thought you knew.” She stood up and went around the table, sitting down next to Pansy and taking her hand.

“What? What are you talking about?” Pansy suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“Promise you won’t be mad, promise as my friend.” Ginny looked straight into her eyes.

Pansy could only nod in confusion, distracted by the intoxicating feeling of Ginny’s fingers entwined with hers, while her mind tried to figure out what the other girl was about to say.

The scent of Ginny’s perfume, a soft spicy scent that was just like her, encompassed her as the girl leaned closer and looked at her earnestly. “Pansy, I never drank the potion.”

“What?” Pansy pulled her hand away, shocked. Whatever she had thought Ginny was going to say, it was never that. “You lied to me? How could you?” Merlin no, she thought, it had all been a trick, a stupid lie, and she was left a heartbroken fool. How Ginny must be laughing at her behind her back.

“Pansy, wait, hear me out. It was a joke at first, a silly joke to irritate you, but –”

Pansy pushed the other girl away and stood up. “I’ve heard enough, Weasley. You fooled me good and proper, now go on back to your bloody tower and laugh with your friends. That’s what you wanted all along isn’t it? When were you planning on telling me? When I made a fool of myself in front of the entire school? Oh that’s rich, Pansy Parkinson getting her comeuppance at the hands of a Weasley.”

“No, Pansy, wait ...” Ginny pleaded, jumping up and grabbing her arm. “Listen to me.”

“Don’t touch me.” Pansy started to back toward the door, her voice dangerous. “Just tell me. Why did you keep on then? Why didn’t you just have your fun at my expense and let me be? Why did you act like my friend?”

Ginny stared at her, her cheeks and neck flushed a deep pink. Tears started to trickle down her cheeks, and she lowered her head and whispered the words so low and fast all in one breath, that Pansy wasn’t sure she heard her right.

“BecauseIstartedtolikeyouandthenIfellinlovewithyouandthenitwastoolatethat’swhy.”

“You what?” Pansy felt her heart tighten in her chest.

Ginny lifted her chin, her eyes blazing, her tear soaked eyelashes darkly beautiful. “Because, Pansy,” she said softly. “Because I fell in love with you.”

You could have heard a pin fall in the silence that enveloped them. Pansy felt as if a wall had fallen down around her heart, as if all the barriers she had ever erected were wiped out in that single phrase. She sank to the stone floor and sobbed into the unforgiving flagstones.

She felt Ginny’s hands, hesitant on her back. “Don’t cry Pansy, please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry; I should have never done this. It was stupid. I know you’ll never love me, but please, I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

Pansy managed to pull herself up. The two girls stared at each other, and Ginny shuddered as Pansy reached up a tentative hand and wiped the tears from her face. “Oh Weasley, you are a stupid girl. Don’t you realize that I love you too?”

She smiled at the look of amazement that crossed Ginny’s face and then leaned forward, closing the gap between them. Their lips met and it was the sweetest kiss Pansy had ever felt. She wanted it to go on forever. Ginny’s mouth was soft and tasted like peaches, and she leaned in further, just gently pressing her lips into the other girl’s, not taking it further, only relishing this first taste of all that was to come.

The next morning, the final victims of the cupid potion were back to normal. Pansy sat across the hall from Ginny at the Slytherin table, watching the other girl, their eyes meeting often and tiny identical smiles gracing their features. Draco sat across from her, looking exceedingly disgruntled as he drank his coffee and periodically arguing with her to take him back.

When owl post came, Weasley’s tiny owl swooped down in front of her excitedly and dropped a letter into her lap. She opened it, oblivious to Draco’s scowl, and smoothed out the parchment before reading what it said.

For Pansy

What lies beneath those eyes of blue?  
An enigma deep and lonely like the sea.  
Within their depths I see a girl,  
Who hates the way they think she ought to be.  
This then I say is my request,  
Hold tight to that truth that lies in you.  
And each day that passes into night,  
Rely less upon lies and on deceit.  
So when that day comes when at last you know,  
The secret that lies behind the mask  
You can reach inside and free it to the winds  
And know what it is to be at last.

And now that the day arrives, it will be me,  
Who stands at your side when things look dark and black.  
Two people different but the same,  
Who’ve traveled down the lonely road and back.  
Who’ve opened a door deep inside the other,  
And seen what no one else has ever looked to see.  
Two friends learning from each other,  
Two lovers destined just to be.  
So tell me if you see it too,  
This future that is right within our grasp.  
Let me know your heart will be mine always,  
And together we’ll find peace and love at last.

Pansy smiled and looked up at Ginny, nodding her head once, before folding the parchment carefully and sliding it in her pocket.

“What’s that all about, Pansy? Surely I can make you see reason. It was just a stupid potion. It didn’t mean anything.”

“I’m in love, Draco,” Pansy said.

“Well then there’s no problem, now take me back and all is forgiven, I can owl my father tonight.”

“No, Draco.” Pansy shook her head and indicated the Gryffindor table with a dignified motion of her chin. “No dear, I’m not in love with you. I’m in love with her.”


End file.
